


Until Death Do We Part

by OmniAni



Series: The Spider and The Temptress [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, Friendship, Love, M/M, Smut, action and adventure, but it's fun, jealous!peter, lots of fluff, probably more violent than other peter parker fanfics, some kidnapping, some mystery, what can I say it's a cliche, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:19:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniAni/pseuds/OmniAni
Summary: You had suffered through a lot over winter break. Since then, things have calmed down. But with the start of the new term comes more trouble, and a lot of it seems to revolve around the new kid you quickly befriend. But what happens once he finds out who you are, and you unfold an entire chapter of your past you never knew about?





	1. Sunset on Summer's End

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel so check out the first book to make any sense of this one!! And, as always, change the pronouns if you desire! I'm not about excluding anyone.

"This was such a monumentally terrible idea." 

"YOU THINK?!" You screech, dangling from a rickety metal pipe several hundred feet above a deadly construction area. Wildly, your feet kick about, searching for some sort of purchase. But there is nothing but air. Your grip begins to loosen on the pipe. "MJ! A little help?" 

Michelle crawls across a wooden plank about a foot to the right of you. It's not large but it would be sturdy enough to hold you both. You hope. Your friend stretches out her arm. It takes a minute for you to work up the courage to release the pipe and grab her hand. Thankfully, you don't miss and fall to your death. 

You try to keep your panic under control as Michelle struggles to pull you up. For a moment, you slip through her grip and your heart leaps into your throat. But she catches you and heaves you up onto the plank. Slow and steady, you both crawl back towards the roof of the decrepit building. 

"Remind me again," you pant, remaining on all fours, glad to have something solid beneath your feet, "why I agree to go on these infernal excursions with you?" 

"Because you're addicted to the adrenaline rush of it. And you love me." Michelle smiles cheekily, and you shoot her a glare. But there's no depth to it. Just an annoyed glance that passes. 

You sit on the edge of the roof together. Rays of gold and orange paint the sky dotted with clouds. From up here, the sunset is more beautiful than you could have imagined. You lean your head on Michelle's shoulder and she rests her head on the top of yours. 

It's a peaceful feeling. Sitting at the top of the world with one of your best friends. Gentle breezes ruffle your hair. 

"It's so hard to believe we have to wake up and go to school tomorrow," you muse. "It feels like summer has gone on forever. In a good way."

Michelle snorts. "At least it's our last year."

Another strike of reality. You're almost done with high school. You haven't even thought about college or anything. Maybe you'll travel. Find your dad. Ever since the start of this year, you've been idly wondering about the voice you heard on New Years. Could it really have been your father? After what you'd gone through last year you think it might be possible. But it very well could be a trick. You don't know what to think anymore, but someday you hope you get the closure you long for. 

A grunt pulls you from your thoughts. You've done it again. Sunk deep into mystery so much so that you've forgotten everything around you. 

"You back?" Michelle asks, slightly miffed. "Good."

In the distance, you see Spiderman swinging from building to building, probably scoping out for criminals. You smile as you watch him soar. If he knew the two of you were up here, he'd kill the both of you. Or try, at least. You could talk him out of it and Michelle could probably just look at him and he'd back down. 

Slowly, the brilliant golds and pale pinks fade into cobalt. Stars twinkle gently. You and Michelle point out constellations in the sky, and make up a few of your own, stories and all. Surprisingly, hers are very well thought out. It's like she is a powerful piece of poetry surrounded by mystery, wrapped in an enigma. Michelle is deeper and more wondrous than she lets on. 

Finally, she sighs and stands, stretching out a hand to you. "C'mon. Time to go. Gotta get up early tomorrow." 

You groan. "Ugh don't remind me." 

You and Michelle clamber down several flights of rickety, broken stairs, under cracked rafters, through dark rooms until you set foot on the cold pavement of the sidewalk. Arm in arm you stroll through the streets of Queens. 

Passing by Mr. Delmar's shop, you wave at him. Someone else waves back. Someone you don't know. But he's cute, with raven hair swooping into eyes so dark you feel like you just now understand the intrigue of stargazing. He's so pretty and alluring. Even Michelle seems to be drooling a bit. 

You giggle and nudge her along. "Cute, isn't he?" 

Michelle snorts. "Yeah. Alright. This is my stop." 

You drop her off at her apartment building and then turn down the street and walk a few blocks to your own. When you step through your door, Tony is waiting for you. 

"Hey kiddo," he greets you, presenting you with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. "Have fun?" 

You nod, sipping it. There's cinnamon in it today. This has been a bit of a tradition you've picked up, alternating making hot chocolate for each other on special holidays, adding something different each time. 

"Surprised you didn't yell at me for being out so late. You know I got school tomorrow." 

"Your last first day! You excited?" 

You shrug. "Yeah. I guess. Let's hope this year runs smoother. More normal." 

Tony chuckles. "You and me both kid."


	2. Sorry I'm New! Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your last first day of high school and you're pretty excited. And the day only gets better when you meet the new classmate joining for senior year!

Hopping off the subway, you take a deep breath in. Ahh, that somehow stale air surrounding the atmosphere of the school. How you've not missed it in the slightest! Despite your anxieties at starting another school year, you grin. Senior year is said to be the best. And from what you've heard, you're expected the least from, so even less to worry about that normal. 

Everyone else is smiling too. Generally they do on the first day back. Happy to see their friends again. Excited to start classes. And then they disappear the next day as reality sets in. For now, walking through the halls is rather inviting. 

Someone tackles you from behind, nearly knocking you to the ground. Stumbling a bit, you spin around to find a familiar gleeful face. 

"Ned!" You wrap your arms around him, bouncing with joy. "It feels like I haven't seen you in forever!" 

"I know!" He agrees enthusiastically. "I hope we have some classes together!" 

Walking down the hall together, you ramble off your list of classes. Turns out, you only have one together - Honors Chemistry 2, the highest science class possible for seniors. Besides physics, but you weren't about to attempt that again. Stopping at the French classroom, you pick up Michelle. She greets you with some fancy French you don't understand and retaliate with a speech in Spanish. Both of you laugh and head for the commons. 

Chatter fills the vast common area. Students of every grade linger around, teasing each other, embracing each other, occasionally throwing things at each other. You and your friends plop down on a bench near the windows. Rays of sun filter through the thick glass, warming your skin. You find yourself constantly checking your watch and then the front doors of the school. Peter never seems to be around anymore. Late to all your hangouts, bailing on you for dinners. And now late to his first day of school. You worry at your lip. At the same time that you're concerned about him, your irritation grows daily. Just once, you'd like to have Peter be your boyfriend. Not Spiderman. 

Lost in your thoughts, you almost don't notice the voices drowning out around you. Ringing fills your ears. Curious, you glance around. No one else seems to notice. The noise only grows louder as everything else grows more muffled. Heart pounding, you stand and search for the source of whatever was causing this. You find nothing until you lock eyes with those of a stranger. Dark luminous eyes. 

"Hey!" Arms enveloping you pull you from your trance. Sounds come rushing back to you, and you can breathe again. It's Peter. "Sorry I'm late! Still made it before first bell, though so that's something."

You barely acknowledge him. Your mind is still reeling from what just happened to you. And those eyes...they seem so familiar. 

"Hey, Y/N," Peter asks, his voice lined with worry, "are you okay?" 

Shaking yourself away from the obsession, you smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little lost in my head I guess."

The bell rings. Hand in hand, you and Peter walk down the halls to your first class, dropping off Michelle and Ned along the way. Once again, you have Spanish first hour. It's the highest they offer, and usually the one only seniors take. You break apart from Peter and take a seat. He gives you a look, but you turn away. Clearly he knows something is up with you. But you're not about to tell him. He'll just start worrying and turn into an overprotective nuisance. 

Stop it. You chide yourself. You love when he gets overprotective. Sure, sometimes it's stifling. But it's cute. And you love him. You don't know where all these doubts are coming from. Still, you resolve not to tell him what's going on. Besides it's probably nothing. Just your imagination playing tricks. 

The day wears on pretty quickly. You barely remember anything, as all your attention has been focused on that strange occurrence. Nothing you tell yourself is reassuring. After everything you went through last year, you feel like you can't trust little things like this to be just little things. Everything is always part of something bigger. Usually something diabolical to take over the world or kill Peter. 

Honors chemistry rolls around. One more hour before lunch. And you don't particularly dislike this class, even if science isn't totally your thing. Especially since you and all your friends share it. By now, you've shaken yourself away from what happened in the morning. You take a deep breath and just allow yourself to enjoy life for now. It's your last year before you head off to college. Before you leave the life you know. Again. 

"Hey loser," Michelle greets you. "You're looking more somber than usual." 

You sigh. "Sorry. Just thinking about life. The future. You know. Terrifying shit." 

She snorts. "Let's not go down that road. I'm more of a live in the now kind of person." 

"I know. Trust me." 

You and Michelle plop down next to each other at lab tables, across the aisle from Peter and Ned. You smile over at your boyfriend. The bell rings and you turn your attention to the front of the classroom. Your teacher, Mr. Dimorey, stands and greets everyone. 

"Good almost afternoon students! I'd like to introduce you all to a new student we have joining us for his final year of high school. Mr. Osborn, could you stand please?"

You turn around as a chair squeaks across the floor from the back. A lanky kid with a mess of curly raven hair and alluring dark eyes. Wait, you know this kid. Why do you know him? Flashbacks to last night give you your answer. He was in Mr. Delmar's shop. But that doesn't seem to satisfy your wondering. There is something else about him. 

The boy clears his throat. "Uh hi. I'm Harry. Just moved here. Done this a lot today, so that's repetitive. But you're all pretty cool so. Yeah." 

Harry promptly sits down and stares at his desk. You tilt your head. Has he made any friends yet? He seems like a nice kid. And if you already feel this strange sort of connection to him, then that would make it easier right? You're going to make it your mission to get to know him after class. For now, you just smile over your shoulder and gently wave. 

After a moment, his eyes brighten. He waves back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not a mystery who the villain is in this book, huh? I'm taking my own spin on it though, so I promise there will still be a lot of surprises. Hopefully you're all going to enjoy this story!


	3. The Worst Kind of Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have another freak out in the cafeteria on your first day of school...

By lunchtime, your stomach is growling like a thousand year starved dragon. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you can hardly contain your patience. Turning the tray around in your fingers helps. But when Peter joins you, and slips his hand into yours, that completely calms your nerves. 

Instinctively, you lean your head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around your shoulders. 

"How was the summer?" He asks. 

"Alright," you murmur. "Michelle is even more ballsy than I thought." 

Peter chuckles. "Sorry I wasn't around much. Apparently criminals love the summer." 

Not responding for fear of sounding bitter, you pull away as the line moves forward. Piling your tray high with mashed potatoes and pineapple (a strange combination that Michelle won't stop making fun of you for), you and Peter chat pleasantly. As you head for the table, the ringing comes back.

Everything around you drowns out. There is just the ringing. Black spots block out your peripheral vision. Clenching your tray, you try to block it out and just keep walking. Suddenly it feels like you are walking through molasses, your bones made of lead. Your hands shake as you struggle to keep from dropping your food. Wildly, your eyes flit around the cafeteria. Whether you're searching for the source or for help, you don't know. You just want it to stop. 

Again, you meet strange, dark eyes. 

"Y/N?" Vaguely, you hear Peter calling out to you. It sounds like he's underwater. 

You close your eyes, hoping that will solve your problem. When you open them, you see a very familiar woman standing directly in front of you. Screaming, you drop your tray and fall. 

"Kalia?" You breathe. 

Everything snaps back to normal. Gasping, you shoot upright, finding yourself kneeling on the ground. Peter crouches next to you, a hand on your back, his eyes swamped with worry. Everyone is staring at you. Your face grows warm. Year two in a row that you cause a scene in the cafeteria on your first day. 

"Y/N, are you alright?" Peter asks, stroking your hair. Needles prickle at your head. And then it's like someone starts hammering them into your skull. Gently, you reach up and touch your forehead. You're burning up. And your mouth feels very dry. 

Hesitantly, you nod. It's a complete lie. But you just want it to be over. Slowly, you get to your feet. Balling your hands into fists barely stops the shaking. Whispering snakes around you, deafening, the stares of your peers like knives. 

Peter throws your arm around his shoulders and together you limp out of the cafeteria. Adrenaline fades from your being, and you suddenly feel incredibly tired. More exhausted than you've ever felt before in your life. Ned and Michelle join up with the two of you and help you to the nurse's office. 

A bit flustered having a patient on the first day, the nurse takes a while to situate a bed for you to lie down on. Popping a few painkillers in your mouth, you gladly take to the bed. Though you want your friends to stay, you need rest just a little bit more. 

"I'll be okay," you reassure them. "Truly. Se prometo." 

Reluctantly, Peter leaves your side, the others in tow. Alone with your thoughts, you take deep breaths and try to calm down. What was happening to you? Were you having some sort of seizure? Maybe it was a genetic thing. You never knew much about your mom. She died a month after giving birth to you. Could be something you inherited from her. 

Unfortunately, you suspect that isn't the case. You saw Kalia. The woman who had kidnapped Peter and tortured Tony almost a year ago. And then suddenly turned around and started looking out for you. At the same time that you want to keep the memory of her being a bitch intact, ever since her warning on new years, you've wanted to contact her. Know more. Anything to protect your friends. And Peter. Above all else. 

Your eyes flutter closed as the exhaustion overtakes you. Thankfully, you have no dreams, or premonitions, or strange realistic conversations with weird people. 

Just as you stretch yourself awake, someone pulls aside the curtain meant to give you privacy around your bed. Standing there is the new kid Harry. Odd, you think, but not unappreciated. 

"Hello," he greets you with a somber smile on his pale lips. 

You push yourself up on your elbows. "Hi. Harry, right? What're you doing here?" 

Harry shrugs. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Sorry if I'm intruding. I can leave if you want." 

You smile and shake your head. "No, no. It's fine! Greatly appreciated, actually. I love company." 

But I wanted Peter's, you think selfishly to yourself. He probably has better things to do. Criminals hardly take a rest. At least not in Queens. 

You swing your legs over the side of the bed. Strength flows back through your muscles and the aching in your head has disappeared. It's like nothing ever really happened at all. Harry takes a seat at the foot of the bed. 

"So do you like it here? Midtown can be a bit...drab, I suppose. But the people make it fun. I promise!" 

"Yeah, I like the people. Better than my old school." 

Intrigued, you prod further on that subject. "Where did you move here from?" 

"Argentina." 

What? 

Overtaken by shock, you can't find the words to respond. Another Argentinian? What are the odds! Suspicious, part of you declares. But the rest of you beats that part into the depths of your mind. Exciting! 

Busting out in full Spanish, you start a friendly conversation with Harry. It's refreshing to speak your native language with someone who understands it perfectly. The more you talk, the more he seems to open up. He pulls his hands out of his jacket pockets. He looks up from the floor every now and then. 

And suddenly, strangely, Peter is the farthest thing from your mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun. Anyways, I know this seems like I'm making it out to be a Harry x reader fic but I'M NOT I promise. This is all just incredibly important for what's gonna happen later on in the story. Might write some from Peter's POV but I'm not sure. We'll see if it works. Anyways, I know it's going a bit slow right now, but that's okay. Savor it kiddos. I know I never do when I read fanfics.


	4. Mistrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The closer you get to Harry, the more you begin to wonder about him.

He knows he shouldn't feel like this. So jealous. He hardly has the right, he knows that. But watching you day in, day out chatting excitedly in Spanish with Harry, it hurts. This is the happiest he's seen you in a long time. Granted, this is the most Peter has seen you in weeks. But still. 

"Are you brooding again?" Ned's voice echos from the kitchen. Peter's gaze refocuses on the TV screen. His car crashed and now he's absolutely last place in Mario Kart. "You're brooding again." 

"I am not," Peter retorts. 

Ned hands him a bowl of Cheetos.

"Right, and I'm Spiderman." 

"No, I am." 

"Peter," Ned huffs, rolling his eyes. "Seriously man. What's your deal with Harry? He seems like a cool dude." 

Peter sighs. His friend is right. There's just something about the kid that seems off. His spidey sense goes wild whenever Harry shows up. But it could just be jealousy. It has to be just jealousy. He can't risk putting you through danger. Not after everything that happened last year. "I just don't trust him." 

Ned swallows a mouthful of Cheetos. Orange dust paints his lips. "Oh I get it. You think Y/N's going to leave you for Harry, don't you?" 

Peter remains silent, which is as good as a yes. 

Annoyed, Ned throws a handful of snacks at Peter who ducks out of the way. "Get it together, man! Y/N loves you. You guys are like, soulmates. You don't have to trust Harry. Just trust Y/N."

A beat of silence falls over them. 

"Maybe you should be here with her. As much as I love buddy nights, I do not want our friend group to fall apart because you can't sort out your issues." 

"No, Ned. It's fine." 

Ned pulls out his phone and puts it on speaker.

"I'm calling her." 

_Ring ring._

Your voice breaks through on the other line. "Hey Ned, what's up?"

"Just calling to check in I guess. You know, friendly things." 

There's silence on your end for a second. You sound slightly annoyed, which only makes Peter more intrigued to hear what you have to say. "Euhh, okay. I'm fine, Ned. How are you?" 

"Great! You wanna hang? I'm headed over to Peter's. We were planning on a movie marathon and pizza and ice cream." 

"I'd love to!" You reply, although your tone is apologetic. "But I'm kinda busy right now. Maybe ask Michelle?" 

There's shuffling and a giggle on your line. "Sorry I gotta go. Have fun!"

You hang up. 

Ned and Peter exchange glances. Something's off. If you're not with Michelle, then where are you? Certainly doesn't sound like you're at home.  Trying to focus his attention away from worrying about you, Peter mindlessly begins playing Mario Kart. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sorry about that," you apologize, tucking your phone back in your pocket. "It was just Ned." 

Harry grins at you. Whipped cream sticks to the tip of his nose and the remainder of his ice cream cone is on the ground. "It's okay." 

"That is not," you joke, pointing to the dessert on the sidewalk. "How dare you! I can't believe I bought that for you and you just toss it to the ground." 

Both of you chuckle. 

"You're pretty cool, you know that?" Harry says. "I was nervous about coming here. I've never been to America." 

"Yeah it's a bit of a shock at first," you console. "But it's better than you think. I mean, look at our friends. I'd do anything for them."

"Our friends?" He implores, his voice awash with hope. 

You smile and nudge him with your elbow. "Of course, stupid. We're all friends."

"Peter doesn't seem to like me very much." 

Your smile falters. You sigh. "He'll warm up to you. He's just...he's been through a lot."

Harry seems to take that as a good enough answer and relaxes into the bench. His sudden tranquility unnerves you. You know it shouldn't but you've had enough experience with strange shit to have a sort of spidey sense of your own. 

 _You're just being paranoid._ You scold yourself.  _Harry's good._

But something just doesn't feel right. 


	5. This Bitch Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a visit from an annoying figure in your past

When you get home, Tony is waiting for you with a bowl of freshly made chili and another mug of hot chocolate, again with cinnamon. 

"Hey!" You exclaim, tossing your backpack to the ground. "What's the special occasion? Also, it's supposed to be my turn." 

Tony shrugs. "Just thought I'd do something nice. I might have to leave for a while. You know. Business." 

You roll your eyes. "Ah yes. No need to explain further. Thanks." 

Gratefully, you accept the mug of hot cocoa and the bowl of steaming chili. Together, you sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. Watching got talent, you curl up next to Tony and he gently rests his elbow on your head, not unlike how your father used to. Back then it annoyed you. Now it's familiar and comforting. It's a bittersweet reminder of your old life.

After a while, you begin to nod off, leaning into Tony as a pillow. Unmet with dreams, you awaken, feeling as though you've had the best sleep in your life. Your uncle is sleeping beside you, his head lolled, drool dripping to the cushion of the couch. Smiling to yourself, you pull a blanket from the nearby comfy chair and gently lay it over him. When you turn around you see a beautiful woman sitting on the couch next to you. 

Instinctively, you scream. You glance over at Tony hoping you didn't wake him. 

"He's fine. He didn't hear you," says Kalia. She's examining her fingernails as if they're the most fascinating things in the world. "And no, you're not asleep. It's a plane of existence somewhere in between where only people like you and me can travel." 

You cross your arms. A myriad of emotions fight for control over your words. For now, you try to keep calm. You doubt she'll give you any answers if you try to strangle her. "What do you want?" 

Kalia shrugs. "I'm only here because you want me to be. It's how our connection works. Since I'm technically dead." 

Taken aback, you exclaim, "Dead?"

"You do remember blowing up my home, don't you?" Kalia sighs, exasperated. "Only a few perished, but I was one of the unlucky." 

"And because I had a part in killing you, that connects us?" You chew on your lip, trying to process this. "You know, technically Tony set the explosives." 

"But he does not have the same strand of DNA that we share."

You huff. "I don't know what you're talking about, joder." 

"You're special, Y/N. Despite our...differences -" 

You snort. Kalia glares at you. You compose yourself and say, "Continue." 

"Despite our past, I want to protect you, because you are my kind." Kalia stretches out her legs onto the coffee table. Now you can see the ghostly white aura surrounding her and wonder how you missed it before. Then you remind yourself that you had only caught glimpses in times of panic. "So, stay away from Harry Osborn."

Anger flares in your chest and you narrow your eyes. "Oh, so what, you're picking my friends now? You have no authority over anything I do." 

Kalia undoes one of her many braids, runs a hand through the loose hair and begins to braid it again. "True. You do not have to listen to anything I say. But it is only for your own good. The Osborn kid is dangerous. Not only to you, Y/N. But to Peter as well." 

"How do you mean?" 

She sighs. "Well, rather, he will be dangerous. Certain events have yet to pass, but they will pass. And once they do, you will see I am right."

Aggravation swells. Impatiently, your foot taps on the ground. You swivel your head around, searching for any way to escape this annoying reality. "And now you can see the future?" 

Kalia's figure fades out for a second. She seems completely unfazed by it. "You can't get rid of me. Not until your subconscious knows that everyone around you is safe."

"Fine. Then let me leave."

"I would much rather be drinking wine in the afterlife being fanned by cloud nymphs than be here with you, but alas, here we are. Keep away from Harry, and eventually you'll be rid of me." 

You close your eyes. Snapping them open again, you sit bolt upright and gasp. The living room is dark, Tony is snoring softly beside you, and Kalia is nowhere to be found. Swallowing nervously, you put your head in your hands and try to calm down. Everyone keeps telling you to avoid Harry, and even you yourself felt something weird about him, but you can't just leave him all alone. 

You just can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do yall like the story? It's only 5 chapters in and mostly exposition but I hope you are enjoying it! Next couple of chapters will reallllly set up the rest of the book and it might get kinda crazy! 


	6. We Are All Friends, Whether You Like it or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a nice dinner in an attempt to remedy Peter's jealousy towards Harry

"Peter, put that down," you order, amused. "Haven't you been told not to play with your food?" 

He makes a face at you as he puts his meatball back down on the plate. "Oh like you haven't done that before. We just acted out Jurassic park with dinosaur nuggets last night!" 

Your face flushes and you elbow him roughly. Peter grunts and rubs his arm. "Yes but that was at home. This is a fancy restaurant." 

Gesturing around the room, you point out the expensive decor. Crystal chandeliers hang above every lacquered wooden table. Champagne sits on the end of every table - even yours, though that may be thanks to May. Everyone around you is wearing something fancy with jewelry that sparkles in the dim lighting. You yourself are wearing a silver bracelet gifted to you from Tony (a pre-graduation present, he says, but you know he just likes to buy shit). 

Sitting at probably the least fancy corner of the restaurant is you, Peter, his aunt May, Ned, Michelle, and Harry. You (or rather Tony's credit card) insisted on taking everyone out as a little back to school dinner celebration to try and ease the pain of having to do so much homework. With your little side mission of making sure Peter and Harry get along. If they don't, your life will be a living hell, and you are not prepared for that just yet. Or ever, really. 

Even so, you can tell how tense Peter is. Despite being carefree and playful, you sense it's a front, that there's something angrier underneath. Something like jealousy, mistrust. You're going to friend that out of him if it takes you all night. Which, as a lover of sleep, you hope it doesn't. 

Most of your friends are half finished with their meals, but you've long since scarfed yours down, and it was delicious. The savory taste still lingers on your lips and you lick them every now and then, desperate to make the flavor last just a little bit longer. 

"So," you clear your throat, turning the attention away from the childish events of your date night, "we all have one class together, yeah? I think it's a great sign that we were all meant to be friends forever." 

"We also share that class with Flash," Peter points out. 

You nudge him again. "What I'm trying to say is that I think Harry and you guys would all get along great! He's great and you all just have to give him a chance." 

"Well," Michelle inputs, poking at her shrimp, "I think you're all losers of equal standing." 

"Thank you?" Harry replies, the corner of his lips quirking. You notice Michelle nonchalantly brush her hair over her face. Definitely has a crush on him. So at least she's no issue.

Ned beams greatly. "The highest compliment from her. Welcome to the club of losers, dude." 

You all laugh and earn a few glares from other more finely dressed patrons. None of you care. Besides, you'll be out of their hair soon anyway. When the bill comes by, you offer up Tony's card. As one big group, you clamber out of the fancy restaurant, bellies full but craving sweet, hot drinks. 

Hand in hand with Peter, you stroll down the sidewalk. Ahead of you, Ned, Michelle, and Harry walk in a trio joking and pushing each other around. Beyond the bright city lights you can almost catch a glimpse of the twinkling stars. 

Rounding a corner you stop at a local cafe and everyone orders some variation of hot chocolate. You sit on a bench outside with Peter waiting for everyone else. His arm stretches over the top of the bench. Sipping your drink, you lean into him. 

"See, this isn't so bad, is it?" You murmur, glancing up at him. "We're all getting along." 

Peter sighs. After a long pause he agrees. "Yeah, I guess. Maybe you were right. Harry isn't so bad. I'm just being jealous." 

Absentmindedly, you trail your fingers over his leg. "Jealousy is okay, Peter. It's cute for a little bit, and natural. But just try not to be anymore. I love you and I always will."

"I love you too." Peter rests his head on top of yours and draws you in closer. It's a particularly chilly fall night and you're grateful for the warmth. 

"We are all friends whether you like it or not." 

He chuckles. "I like it." 

You and Peter clink your plastic cups together and take a sip. The rest of your squad joins you outside, huddling together for warmth and laughing as Michelle draws some irreverent sketches in the foggy glass of the cafe. Harry approaches you and Peter cautiously, as if feeling out new territory. 

Sticking his reddened hands in his jacket pockets he sits on the bench a seat away from you. After a while of just staring at Ned and Michelle joking about her drawings, he finally speaks. 

"Thanks for inviting me." 

You smile. "Of course, Harry. You're our friend and you should be treated as such." 

"All of your friends?" He ventures, glancing quickly at Peter before casting his gaze to the ground. 

Peter sighs. "Yeah man. I'm sorry if I was ever a jerk to you. We're all friends." 

You lean away from Peter and hook your arms through both his and Harry's, being careful not to spill your drink. "Whether you like it or not." 

Chuckling he turns and meets your eyes. For the briefest second you hear the ringing again and feel a bit faint. But just as quickly, it passes when he turns away. 

Everyone's smiling. 


	7. Halloween!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On your way to a Halloween rager, Harry reveals some unnerving information to you

" _Listo_?" You call, smoothing down your tattered dark dress. Layers of black and gray fabric cover your white dress and a black belt adorned with white stones cinches around your waist. You're talking to Peter who's in the other room, dressed in a suit. He says he's going for John Mulaney, but while he might be able to look the part, the comedy will be a struggle seeing as he's not the funniest. Of course, you're not going to tell him that. 

"Yup!" Peter responds from the other room. 

You check the purple and blue streaks in your hair one last time before leaving the bathroom to meet him. His eyes brighten when he sees you, and he grabs your hand, spinning you awkwardly, before pulling you in by the waist. 

"Look at my beautiful siren!" He pecks a kiss against your lips. 

"And my dashing less funny Mulaney!" You tease, twirling away from him. Whoops, guess you were going to tell him. 

"Says you," Peter retorts. 

You snort and pat him on the shoulder. "Says everyone, Peter. Hate to break it to ya." 

Childishly, he sticks out his tongue. You giggle and kiss him on the cheek. "It's okay. There are many other reasons to love you." 

"Yeah, yeah," he responds, rolling his eyes and smiling. "Let's just go. Gotta pick everyone else up."

Linking arms, you stroll out of Peter's apartment.  Crisp night air tugs at your wildly teased and braided hair. Little kids in costumes run about with bags already half full of sweets. You hop out of the way of a hungry fairy and Harry Potter. Smiling, you lean into your boyfriend. You wish you had had something like Halloween in Argentina, strange as it may be. 

A few blocks down and you've got Ned and Michelle in tow, both dressed as pirates. All that's left is Harry. You've never been to his apartment, but you're hoping it's much more inviting than the streets you've turned down. Cracks in the sidewalk deepen. Lights become sparse. The buildings seem more vacant, torn down. Chills run down your arms and you hug yourself to keep warm. 

Suddenly Kalia pops up beside you, flickering in and out of transparency like a ghost. "Told ya he was shady." 

You roll your eyes. "Shut up." 

She shrugs and disappears. 

"What?" Peter says. 

You shake your head. "Nothing. Just talking to myself. Here, I think this is the place." 

Like all the surrounding buildings, it seems just as empty, broken, and dark. There shines a light in one of the uppermost rooms, but that's about it. You exchange wary glances with your friends who have stopped joking around. Alarms ring in the back of your head. If anything should put you off and warn you about a person it should be this, but you choose to ignore it. For more reasons than one. Most specifically you don't want Kalia to prove you wrong about Harry. 

You text Harry and ask him to come down. He responds with a simple okay and you tuck your phone away again. A group of teens races by, completely ignoring your existences, probably off to get drunk. Other than that, there's no one. For a while, you all wait in silence for him to come down, then a few minutes pass and you all shift uncomfortably. What's taking him so long? 

Another few minutes pass. You circle up with your friends and start to play elementary school games and find that they're not so fun as they used to be. 

It's been nearly an hour. You pace and finally resolve to call him. It rings for a while but doesn't pick up. Worry begins to eat away at you, and suddenly Kalia is pacing right beside you. 

"Suspicious, isn't it?" She muses, gazing up at the buildings. "Even I didn't expect this." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" You mutter, trying to keep your voice down so no one else hears you. 

"Being dead has its perks, Y/N. Knowing things. Knowing Harry was supposed to be down here earlier." 

She stares upwards with wide eyes, as if she suddenly got struck by cold water. "Something terrible is going to happen." 

You follow her terrified gaze to the only lit room in the building. Dark eyes stare back at you and intense ringing fills your ears, fuzzes your mind, drowns your thoughts. You try to tear your eyes away but you can't. 

"Y/N!" Peter's voice snaps you away from the sound, away from Kalia - who promptly disappears. "Hey you good?" 

You shake your head and slowly the buzzing recedes. "Uh yeah. Just worried - "

Just then, Harry pops out of the front door dressed like a magician. 

"-about Harry!" You exclaim, enveloping him in a hug. "What the hell took you so long?" 

He shrugs. "Makeup." 

And that's that. For him, anyway. The rest of you take it with a grain of salt, exchanging wary glances. While they might be content without asking questions, you are not. Kissing Peter on the cheek you fall to the back of the group in step with Harry.

For a while, there's just silence. Then you finally say, "What really took you so long?" 

He sighs. "Talking to my dad. It was a rare but pleasant occasion. He's hardly around. Always caught up in work with Oscorp." 

You nod. "Right! I knew your name was familiar. I'm glad you got to talk to him. What I wouldn't give to talk to mine." 

When he looks over at you, you realize what you just said. After getting so comfortable talking about your loss with Peter it never occurred to you that that might be a bit of a bombshell on a new friend. 

"Er, my father died a little over a year ago."

You turn a corner and the party location is obvious. Lights flash in the night sky and music pumps through the cool air. Energy pulses in your veins, buzzes in the air between you and your friends. All your smiles stretch wider as you race towards the supposedly haunted building. You're so excited you almost miss Harry's reply. 

"Y/N, your father isn't dead." 

Your eyes widen and you hear that ringing again. But you don't get a chance to ask him what the hell kind of joke that was, because Michelle grabs your hand and pulls you in through the massive, intricate front doors. 

Hope spurs in your chest. Feeble, unreliable hope. You can't help it. You can't help the only thought that crosses your mind as you head for the dance floor. 

_Is Papa is alive?_


	8. A Party With A Kick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is fun. For a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: there's some roofies in this chapter. Please take care reading.

Your mind reels. Everything stops and you go limp, dragged along in Michelle's wake. What the hell did Harry just say? Was it true? No. How could it be true? He didn't even know your father! 

But what about the Pallax home that you blew up? You saw him there. 

Even if that wasn't just a hallucination, he had to be dead for sure now. Shaking, you try to push the thought from your mind. You are not here to worry about the mystery surrounding your father's death. You are here to party and have fun. It's going to take a lot of drinking. But goddamn, you'll drain every drop from everyone's cup if it makes you forget. Not even Peter can stop you from nearing alcohol poisoning.

Deafening music beats from the terrifyingly large stereos hooked up to a DJ's computer. At least it's decent music. Enough to get your blood pumping and your mind buzzing. Some cocktail waitresses wade through the crowd in short black and red dresses balancing gold platters on their palms. You're not really sure whose party this is but they must be hella rich. 

As one of the waitresses walk by, you grab a glass of mimosa and down it rather quickly. You haven't dabbled much in alcohol but this so far is the best you've tried. It slakes down your throat, cool and fruity. One after another, you down whatever you can grab. Michelle laughs along, drinking a few of her own. The drunker she gets, the more she opens up. You've never seen her so loose and carefree. It's invigorating to see her so much lighter and happier.

You grab her hand and pull her out of the jumping and grinding crowd towards the open bar. You've lost sight of the guys but find them far from your drunken mind. At the bar, you order shot after shot of tequila. Around you, the world blurs and colors run into one another. Your stomach twists with nausea but you're too euphoric to care. Your mind is so blissfully blank. There's nothing for you to worry about. You barely remember the meaning of worry. 

Hours pass. It's past midnight now and your mental confusion has faded, though the pleasurable buzzing remains. Exhaustion begins to gnaw at your core and for as much fun as you're having, you want nothing more than to collapse in bed and cuddle with Peter. Seeing as he's probably dancing it up in the middle of the impassable crowd, sitting at the bar is the closest you can get to that peace right now. 

You order a simple glass of rum and coke, something you'd drink with Tony on few occasions. Quietly, you sip it, letting the flavor linger in your mouth until it's gone. Halfway through it, you sigh. Turning around, you scan the crowd again, hoping to catch any glimpse of your friends. Alas, no such luck. 

Someone brushes by you as you turn your attention back to your drink. Idly, you stir it some more with your finger. Passing time by sipping, you find that the party gets less interesting as it drags on. Around you, people are laughing and dancing, some slipping away through doors that lead to dark hallways. Absently, you wonder where the hallways let out.

Drowsiness overcomes you. Something doesn't feel right. 

A thick, heavy fog settles over your mind, muddling your thoughts. Nausea twists your stomach around. Dazed, you try to get off the bar stool but end up stumbling and falling to the ground. Despite only the one drink in the last hour, a new wave of drunkenness washes over you. Not the good, jubilant kind. The exhausting, worn out kind. 

World spinning, you grab onto the bar stool and try to right yourself. You barely make it to your feet before vomit creeps up your throat. Your muscles don't seem to want to respond to you. 

"S'mbdy help," you slur. You can't really tell whether your voice is soft or loud. You can't discern anything. Fear explodes in your chest, burning through your lungs, your heart, your every vein. You're not sure why you're so terrified. You can't think of any specific reason other than this isn't how you're supposed to feel.

A figure appears in front of you. It's Kalia, and concern is etched across all her perfect features. If she's trying to say something, you can't understand. Voices are fuzzy. Consciousness begins to slip away from you. 

Someone grabs your arm. The sudden jolt of touch is overwhelming. Prickly sensations trail over your skin, like you're burning. 

You're hoisted to your feet by an unfamiliar man. You want to fight him but your instincts are suppressed and you feel numb, void. Not even your voice will obey you. Any words that you utter are incomprehensible. 

He purrs something in your ear that makes shivers trail down your spine. As he leads you towards one of the back rooms, dread washes over you. Tears sting your eyes and you try with all your might to fight back. All that comes out is a sort of strangled scream before the stranger puts a hand over your mouth.  

Weakly, you put your foot up on the trim of the door as he tries to force you through it. 

Suddenly, he falls away, and without his weight, you crumple to the floor. Vision hazy, you try to make sense of what happened. Everything is doubling, but you can make out Harry standing over the man who drugged you, his fist clenched, his face raging. 

Harry turns to you, his knuckles split and bleeding. Softening his gaze, he helps you to your feet. Still dazed, you lean into Harry as he helps you back towards the crowd of people.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his voice soft and honeyed. 

"No," you manage, focusing all your energy on speaking. "Peter. Where's Peter? Harry where's Peter? I need Peter." 

Harry tries to calm you, but all you can focus on is Peter. "He's out of commission at the moment. Just as hammered as you. More, maybe." 

Wait, that doesn't sound right. "No. No Peter doesn't drink. Who got him drunk?" 

"Ned, I think. Maybe Michelle. Maybe a stranger. I really don't know. But I need to get you home." 

"No," you murmur, your vision darkening. "I'm fine. I'll be fine if I can just see Peter." 

After his name passes your lips, you promptly pass out.


	9. Everything Gets Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fire erupts and Peter swings into action. But his inebriation comes at a high price...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Peter POV chapter! This is a big turning point that sets up for everything else to happen later. Hope you enjoy!

Peter had sipped a bit of alcohol every now and then, but he's never had this much. Every nerve in his body is surging with energy, not unlike how alive he feels when he's swinging through the city. But that exhilaration is true and tangible. This is dreamlike. A false euphoria. Though he feels free, he isn't consciously free. It is born of drunkenness and the suppression of his mind. How you and Michelle love this feeling, Peter doesn't know.

Time passes quicker than he expects. He's really not sure how he even got drunk in the first place. It just started with one drink while searching for you and then he just...kept going. Honestly, Peter can't remember ever having a second drink. Something doesn't feel right about it all. But his spidey senses are a bit out of whack, so he can't even trust his own gut feelings. He hopes you're having a good time because Peter is beginning to regret coming out to the party.

Ned and Michelle are dancing in the midst of the drunken, grinding crowd sweating alcohol and ecstasy. But he hasn't seen any sign of you for hours. Worry gnaws at the pit of his stomach. Pangs of jealousy follow quickly behind when he realizes that there's no sign of Harry either. It's a more bitter feeling than anything he's ever felt. 

Outside of the house, sirens blare. Peter glances at Ned and gives him a brief knowing look before wading through the crowd for the door. Fresh, chilly air greets him when he finally steps outside.

In his inebriated state of mind, Peter wildly looks around for the source of the commotion. In the distance, he can see clouds of black smoke billowing into the dark sky. Yellow and orange flames lick the windows of a tall building. Firefighters will be able to help, but they won't get there in time to save everyone. 

Peter hides in the shadows of the party building and strips off his costume to reveal his Spider-man suit beneath. He shoves his clothes beneath a tree and pulls his mask on before racing into the streets. 

Swinging from building to building, Peter feels more awake. Strange feelings clash in his mind. The rush of pure energy from soaring through the air mingles with the drunk energy rooted in his body to create an overwhelming sense of power that is more distracting than he can bear. Peter's concentration fizzles in and out and he can barely focus once he finally lands on the tower ablaze. 

Acrid scents waft beneath his nose. It isn't just the suffocating smoke that makes his eyes water. Whatever this building is, it certainly was used for experimental science. 

Shaking his head to clear away his thoughts, Peter ducks in through one of the few dark windows. Smoke chokes him, the clouds hanging heavy in the room. He ducks down and crawls across the warm floor. Several people dressed in uniform are passed out on the ground, some not breathing. One by one, Peter heaves them over his shoulders and brings them down to the ground where the EMTs take over.

Sweat pours over him. Intense heat adding to his inebriation makes him feel faint. Only once before had he felt this intense heat; last winter when he'd almost died from heat stroke after being kidnapped. 

"Has anyone seen Osborn?" One of the lab technicians shouts. 

"He's still in there!" Another replies. "I saw him in the lab!"

_Osborn? This is Osborn Co.?_

Peter's mind is muddled but he knows he has to save Osborn. Especially if that's Harry's dad. 

Despite the aching in his limbs and the burning in his chest, Peter pushes through his pain and runs back into the building. Stifling heat steals away the rest of his breath. Coughing, he races through room after room, finding nothing but searing flames. 

Finally, Peter reaches a room that could only be described as a lab. Foul, pungent scents of spilled chemicals fill the room, mingling with the heavy smoke. Fire climbs over the tables and shattered beakers. Wildly, Peter looks around, searching for any sign of life. A groan to his left catches his attention. There, beneath a long table lies a lanky figure. 

"Mr. Osborn?" Peter says, shaking him. He's barely conscious, and by now he's probably taken in too much smoke. "Mr. Osborn you have to wake up." 

Unresponsive, Peter resolves to lifting the man over his shoulders and staggering towards the exit. He's never been so unsteady on his feet before. Are there two doors or one? Which way did he come in? He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by the heat and the weight of the man on his shoulders. 

Peter tries to clear his head. He's way too drunk for this. He can't do this. 

And then your face pops up in his mind. Your smile, your twinkling eyes. That's all he needs to push through his doubt. A surge of strength flows through him and he stumbles through the fires and bursts out onto the street. Gently as he can, he lays Osborn down on the cold pavement. EMTs rush to help, but he's still not breathing. 

Minutes pass, feeling like hours. Osborn still isn't breathing. He's still not breathing. 

Peter puts his head in his hands. He knows he can't save everyone. But this time...this time he fucked up worse than ever. If he hadn't been drinking, if he'd been faster he could have prevented this. 

Unable to bear the weight of his mistake, Peter swings far away from the scene. Sitting atop a tall building, staring up at the stars dancing across the dark sky, Peter begins to cry. 

 


	10. Emotions Run High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up in a strange place to some terrible news.

Silence greets you when you awaken. Clenching your fists, soft, fuzzy fabric balls up in your palms. Beneath that, the mattress is a little lumpy. The walls around you are white, adorned with faded Beatles and Panic! At The Disco posters every now and then. Other than that, there isn't much. It's a very well kept room, clean and smelling of coffee. Nice as it is, you still don't know whose it is. 

You don't know how you got here or when. You don't remember much of the last few hours. The party happened. That you know for sure. And you remember Harry's face, angered. But other than hazy drunken memories, you have no idea what happened. Dreadful theories flood your mind. You always knew the risks of going to wild parties but maybe last night you got way out of hand. What if...

Your throat tightens and you bite back a sob. You know the implications of being drunk and related to Tony Stark. You hope this isn't another hostage situation, seeing as your uncle is otherwise engaged and you'd hate to pull him away from that. Plus, you really just don't have the energy to deal with a situation like that. 

Stretching your stiff limbs, you crawl out of the bed and tiptoe towards the door. You turn the knob, relieved to find the door silent. Soft, gentle sunlight filters into the carpeted hallway through the small window at the other end. A few paintings hang on the walls, alongside a framed family picture with Harry's familiar smiling face, his father's arm around his shoulders. Your anxieties drop away. Everything is fine. You hope. 

"Hello?" You call out, stepping down the stairs, each of them creaking beneath your feet. "Harry?" 

In the living room, the TV is on, broadcasting a news story about a devastating fire at Osborn Co., and the tragedy of the number of deaths. You sigh. Another tragedy you could do nothing to help. You just hope Harry is okay. 

Lightly stepping through the hallways, you find nothing but silence. This place is much bigger, nicer, than the place you picked Harry up from Halloween night, which only tears open a deep ravine of questions. You push that aside for now. 

"Harry?" You say again, your echo the only response. 

Pleasant scents waft beneath your nose as you approach the kitchen. A full breakfast is laid out on the island counter. Piles of pancakes and waffles sit on one plate, doused in butter and syrup. Eggs and bacon fill another. Water boils in the teapot on the stove, next to a mixture of homemade hot chocolate. As the kettle whistles, you pull it off. Still, there's no sign of your friend anywhere. Worry tugs at your heart. Where could he be? 

You turn around to find Harry coming in from the bathroom. Instinctively, you scream. Holding a hand over your heart, you say, "Jesus CHRIST, Harry. You scared the shit out of me." 

He shrugs. "Sorry. And I didn't know what you like for breakfast so I just made a lot."

You chuckle and grab one of the plates to satiate the growling in your stomach. "Yeah, I see that. Thanks." 

Sitting down at the worn kitchen table, you eat in silence for a minute. When you look back up at Harry, you see his eyes are faintly red and puffy. He's been crying. You set your fork down and take to the chair beside him. Harry doesn't turn to you. He doesn't do anything but continue to stare at his hands in his lap. 

Your mind wanders back to the news on the TV. Osborn towers set alight last night. What if something happened to Harry's father? Having lived through that experience, you know better than to ask him if his father died. You know better than to say anything. Instead, you just draw him into a hug, and stay like that for what seems forever as sobs begin to wrack his body. You can almost feel the devastation radiating from him in waves, a bitter and desperate flavor. A few hot, heavy tears roll down your cheeks. You hate to see him so hurt. 

"Thank you," you finally say, after holding him for a while, "for helping me last night. I don't remember a lot, and I'm not really sure what happened to me, but I remember you. So thanks."

Harry nods. "Of course. I could never let anything happen to you." 

Teary eyed, he turns to stare at you. There's almost no distance between your noses. A warm, tense silence settles over you as you gaze at each other. You take a deep breath and move away from him to put your dishes in the sink. He slumps in his chair. 

"Are you alright, Harry?" You ask. "I just, I heard the news. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"My dad died." He says curtly, his voice flat but strains of grief are hidden behind that. "No one could save him. Not even that fucking Spiderman." 

You freeze, halfway through popping grapes in your mouth. Slowly, you swallow. "Spiderman was there?"

"Yeah," Harry says. His voice is so angry, so full of heat. It's a fury you've never heard from anyone else. "If it weren't for that fucking vigilante, my dad would have survived. Spiderman wouldn't have interfered with anything. My dad would be alive. He's dad and it's his fault."

Immediately, you come to the defensive, speaking without thinking. "You think it's Spiderman's fault that your father died in that fire?" 

Harry turns around in his chair. Wrath burns in his mesmerizing dark eyes, lighting them up like embers that start a raging wildfire. "I know it is."

"I'm sure that he was only trying to help! He's a good guy." Your voice is louder than you mean it to be. This is an extremely delicate emotional situation, you know that. You just can't help defending Peter. He's already had enough hate from the people and authorities in the past. 

"What, like you know him personally?" Harry spits, flaming with rage. It's the same sort of rage you felt yourself when you found out about your own father's death. Blaming anyone and anything. Filled with anger so you don't have to confront the depth of the pain you really feel. You know exactly what he's going through. 

You sigh and rub your hands over your face, trying to calm yourself down. "Obviously I don't. I'm sorry, Harry. I know how you're feeling. And I'm not going to offer you pity or tell you it'll be okay. Because it won't be, for a while. But I am here for you to talk. Anything you need." 

"To be alone, I think," he replies, still fuming, but his tone kinder. "Before my mother gets here from Argentina. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

You purse your lips, not wanting to leave him by himself in this state, not wanting to leave him to let his anger and grief fester. But you nod and slip out of the door, without another word. 

 


	11. Peace, For A While, At Least

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Peter have to take some deep breaths after the events of Halloween night.

Gentle sunlight greets you when you step outside. Freezing wind whips past you and you hug your arms close to your body. You don't remember if you brought a jacket, and even if you did you're sure it would have been lost by now. Taking a deep breath, you head down the sidewalk. You're not sure where you are. You wish the Avengers tower hadn't been moved or you could use that as a pinpoint. 

Shivering, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Surprisingly, it's not completely dead, though nearly so. With already numb fingers, you dial Peter's phone. It rings, but he doesn't pick up. You hope he's okay. You hope he didn't get out of hand at the party. And then something drops in your core and unease sits like a rock in your stomach. What if Peter had gotten wasted? What if that interfered with his rescue mission? 

You shake your head free of those thoughts. Peter always does his best. You can't blame him. It's not like he's the one that set the fire. It's just Harry's grieving energy that's planted doubt in you. 

_Ring ring._

You answer your phone almost immediately. "Hey Pete."

"Hey," his voice crackles from over the line, tired, "sorry I missed your call. I was asleep."

"It's okay. I just, could you swing by and pick me up? I'm really not sure where I am. Outside of Queens. Maybe by Brooklyn. I don't know." 

"You don't know? What happened to you last night?" Worry lines his voice. 

You exhale slowly, trying to warm up your fingers. "I'll explain later. Just please come get me. Track my phone. I'm about to die of hypothermia." 

"Be there in a flash." 

 _Click_. 

He hangs up, and you don't get the chance to tell him he can't use the catchphrase pun that belongs to Barry Allen. You shove your phone back into your pocket and try to keep your blood flowing, and try not to freeze. It seems like forever as you wait for Peter. And, of course, Kalia takes the moment to make her presence known. 

"I told you something bad would happen," she says, sitting cross legged in the snow. 

You blow on your hands and rub them together. "Congratu-fucking-lations. I don't care." 

"You don't care that your friend lost his father?" 

You huff, annoyance spiking through the roof. "You know that's not what I meant. And I thought you hated Harry." 

Kalia shrugs. "I do. But, tragically you consider him a friend."

"Why are you here?"

"You're cold." 

You roll your eyes. "Oh so now you show up when my temperature fluctuates?" 

"No. Just observing." 

"Why are you avoiding my question?" 

Kalia's dark eyes twinkle with something like enjoyment. "Boredom." 

"Don't you have something better to do than burden me with your existence?" 

Kalia stands. "Ha. No. Unfortunately, watching over you is my only priority right now. And I have a terrible feeling that things are going to get worse." 

"You give me a terrible feeling," you snap. "Go away. You're never helpful." 

She shrugs, tossing her braids over her shoulder. "Stay away from Harry. That is the most helpful advice I could ever give you. And you never listen." 

In the distance, you spot Peter swinging closer. Just a few minutes and you'll be warm again. "Because it's dumb. He's a good kid, and he's having a hard time. I know what he's going through." 

"He might have been a good kid. But trauma twists everyone a different way. Not everyone is as resilient as you." Kalia's figure begins to fade. "Be more cautious around him. If you won't cut ties, be watchful." 

And she is gone once again, leaving you alone with the biting wind. Moments later, Peter lands on the sidewalk and jogs towards you. Warmth emanates from him as he grows nearer. Once in his arms, waves of emotion flood over you, and you're unable to stop the tears. Maybe it's because you feel violated from not being able to remember last night. Maybe it's because seeing Harry go through an indescribable pain you know better than anyone hurts you. Maybe it's just the relief to be in Peter's arms. 

Without saying anything to you, Peter lifts you in his arms and you curl into him as he soars through the air. His familiar scent is comforting, and calms your nerves. When finally Peter touches down, your eyes are dry and your mind clearer.

Gently, he sets you down on the metal landing outside of your apartment. You unlock the outside door and step inside to the heat, wrapping around you like a hug. Immediately, you rush to your room and throw on some warm clothes before returning to the living room where Peter waits for you, changed into his normal clothes. You jump into the seat next to him and lean into his body. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and you trace indiscriminate designs on his leg. 

"Are you okay," you both finally say, in harmony, followed by awkward chuckles. And then again, in unison, you reply, "No."

A beat of silence passes and then Peter says, "Last night was a disaster." 

You nod in agreement. "Tell me about it."

"I got drunk. Like way too drunk. I'm not even sure how. I just remember Michelle and Ned doing it and I thought I might as well try since you love it so much." 

You sit up, and brush your fingers across his cheek, in strokes of comfort. "Just because I love it doesn't mean you have to, Peter. I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"I couldn't save Harry's father. It's my fault he's dead." 

"It absolutely is not. You tried. You can't blame yourself for this." 

Peter closes his eyes. "I can't stop thinking about it." 

You kiss him on the forehead. "I know. I'm here for you, whatever you need, okay? I love you." 

He runs his hands through your hair, and peace settles over the both of you as you gaze into each others eyes. "I love you too." 

"Will you stay with me today? Maybe the night too?" You ask, your voice a strained whisper. More memories from last night have been flashing through your mind. The terror you felt courses through you now. You were drugged, you know that now. You don't think anything happened, but the fact that something could have shoots icicles of fear up your spine. 

Peter pulls you in close to him. "Of course." 

 For the rest of the day, you try not to talk about what happened, and lose yourself in Peter's presence and the calming voice of Bob Ross on your TV. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Kalia is a bit of a strange concept but I like writing her interactions. Also, I feel like I haven't been including Michelle and Ned enough so I think we'll have some friend fluff soon. More heavy stuff to come in the future. Stay tuned!


	12. Friendsgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice, fun time hanging with your friends.

School the next few weeks is rough. Harry doesn't show up the first week. After that, he hardly speaks. It's nearing Thanksgiving now, and you can't handle seeing him so upset. You know it's going to be a bit of a sensitive time for Harry, but the best thing for him is support, namely, you and your friends. It will cheer him up and help ease him of his grief. Last year's Thanksgiving was great, minus that incident of being kidnapped. Since Tony is gone, off doing whatever the hell, you are going to throw the best party in history at your place. 

"Hey, fucker, help me with this," Michelle asks, teetering dangerously on a stool trying to string up lights. Just because it's Thanksgiving doesn't mean you guys can't be festive in anticipation for December. 

"Well since you asked so nicely," you respond, a teasing smile playing on your lips. You haven't spent much quality time with her lately, so having her help you set up is delightful. 

She flashes you a smile over her shoulder. "I'm nothing if not nice." 

You roll your eyes and drag a chair up next to her. Together, you're able to string up a bunch of colorful lights around the apartment. Hanging from the center of the ceiling are white and silver strings of lights that remind you of icicles. It's taken longer than you thought it would which means you're going to be cooking straight until the guys arrive. 

Together, you and Michelle slave away at a turkey (you think it's supposed to be glazed, Michelle disagrees,  _it'll burn_ ), and after absolutely destroying it, you opt for some store bought turkey sandwiches from your fridge. As five in the evening nears, your arms are sore from mashing potatoes and throwing together green bean casserole. Michelle had been working on the stuffing and cranberries, the latter which really just involved her dumping it from a can into a bowl.

You set the table and light a few candles, adding to the warm atmosphere. The guys will show up in about half an hour, so you and Michelle plop down on the couch. Michelle lies down, propping her legs up on your lap. You don't shove her away, because you know from experience she'll just revert right back to her position. You balance your elbows on her shins to annoy her. 

"What do you think of Harry?" Michelle asks, breaking the silence. 

You raise an eyebrow and smirk at her. "You _are_ into him. I knew it!" 

She rolls her eyes. "You're brilliant. Seriously. You hang out with him more than the rest of us."

You chuckle and Michelle heaves an annoyed sigh. "I think you guys would be really good together. Just so you know."

"Good." She says it so matter-of-factly, like that is just common knowledge she's reaffirming. "If you had to, would you rather sacrifice your right thumb to a hungry tiger or your left ear to an angry god." 

You laugh at her change in subject. "Uh depends how angry the god is. Will this god flood the lands if I don't sacrifice my ear?" 

"Oh certainly." 

"Can I give them your ear instead?" 

"I am the god." 

You snort and punch her lightly. "Of course you are." 

"I love you, ya know." Michelle says, staring up at the ceiling. 

"I love you too, nerd," you tease. "My life would be significantly less exciting without you." 

Michelle nods. "Yeah 'cause you're a loser." 

You shake your head, smiling. "Dick." 

A knock at the door interrupts her before she can retaliate with a witty response. Shoving her off the couch, you hop to your feet and pull the door open. Peter, Ned, and Harry are standing there, all with smiles on their faces. Even Harry. Your heart soars. This dinner is a great idea! It's going to help lift Harry's spirits. You believe that wholeheartedly. 

As everyone settles in to the table (Michelle shooting you disgruntled glares; apparently she doesn't like being pushed off the couch), you retrieve all the food from the kitchen and place it around the candles. Delightful chatter fills the air, music to your ears, as you and all your friends dig in. You reach over to Peter and grab his hand beneath the table, and interlock your fingers with his. He glances over at you and you smile. 

You take a sip of faux champagne at the same time that Harry asks, "So have you guys had sex yet?" 

You spit all over the table, enough to put out one of the candles. Michelle's eyes widen, and she takes a sip of her own drink to cover her smile that you catch. Peter clenches tighter to your hand, and stares straight forward. 

"Christ, Harry," you finally say, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your sweater.

Peter says,"That's not, erm, it's, it's not really any of your business."

Harry shrugs. "Just making conversation."

Michelle and Ned grin. Without thinking, you take up their silent challenge. "Yeah. We have. Several times. It's been a year. Of course we have." 

Everyone grins wider, except for Peter who goes so red in the face you think he might explode. You gently run your hand up and down his arm in an attempt to calm him down. "Peter, chill." 

He downs the rest of his water and shovels a few bites of stuffing in his mouth before finally returning from beet red to his normal color, but you can tell he's still a bit embarrassed, especially when he pulls his hand away. Guilt washes over you and you frown. You push through it. Tonight, there will be nothing but joy. For Harry's sake, if nothing else. 

As everyone's bellies grow full of meat, bread, and pie, the energy in the room only swells. You play several party games from monopoly (Michelle won, you nearly flipped the table, and Ned tried to stop you), to go fish (again, Michelle won) and now you're on to twister. If there's anything that you're going to win at, well, it's not this. 

Ned's at the spinner, calling out right foot red. It starts out simple enough, but then you end up with your head under Michelle's back and your legs intertwining with both Harry's and Peter's. Sweat trickles down your neck as you struggle to maintain your awkward position. When Ned calls out the next color, you find you can't do anything but collapse. Being that you were the support system for everyone else, they all come crashing down too. Giggle ensue and you untangle yourself from them all as giddiness fills you from the core.

That feeling laughs until nearly one in the morning, when everyone finally begins to wind down. You pull everyone into a group hug and stay like that for a solid two minutes before they depart out the door. Peter kisses you deeply before heading back to his own place. Only Harry lingers behind. 

"Thank you for this, Y/N," he says, hugging you again. "I don't deserve your kindness."

You return the hug, adding a squeeze for good measure. "You do. Just like all of my friends. And, you know, Michelle would really like to spend more time with you." 

Harry pulls away, tilting his head in a way that exaggerates the delicacy of his features. "Huh?" 

"One on one, time, Harry. Just test the waters." You smile, and give him a knowing look that you hope he picks up on.  "Now, shoo. I need to sleep." 

After Harry leaves, you close and lock the door. Now the gentle candlelight and ticking of the kitchen clock is your only company. You sigh and lean your head against the door. It was a good day. Everyone left happy. You still got it. 

You smile and clear the dishes from the table. Blowing out the candles one by one, you're left alone in the darkness. You trot to your bedroom and collapse onto your bed, and fall into a euphoric, dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya I'd do some fluff! I thought this was a cute chapter. More to come!


	13. Arguments Are Not Fun. Lawyers Are Fucked.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Peter have a rather heated argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sucked to write TBH. But I felt there needed to be a little more drama. The next chapter will be more fun, I promise. 

Two days later, gentle morning light awakens you from a deep slumber. It's Sunday, and you finally get to hang out with your friends again. You know it really hasn't been that long, but with Tony gone, Friday and Saturday were rather boring. Especially since Kalia never made an appearance. She seems to have taken a vacation, leaving you feeling lighter and yet strangely empty. The last thing she told you was to be cautious. You guess it's not bad advice, but it still feels weird to mistrust one of your friends. Sure, Harry is new to the group, but he has a lot to offer. 

Stomach grumbling, you wander the empty rooms of your apartment searching for food. You dump some cereal into a bowl and munch while scrolling through your phone. The entire morning is rather slow, and you take the time to be lazy. You take perhaps the longest shower of your life, jamming out to your favorite tunes and nearly die when you slip. As afternoon draws nearer, your excitement swells. Being alone can be fun, but you really can't cope with boredom. 

A long awaited knock comes from your door. You leap up from the couch, turn off the TV and open the door. Peter's waiting for you, hands in the pockets of his jacket, a lopsided smile on his face. You pull him into the apartment by his elbow and greet him with a deep kiss. You lead him towards the couch, kissing him the whole way. You know you have a few minutes to spare, and there's a certain way you'd like to spend that right now. 

 _Mental note not to ever leave myself completely alone for so long_ , you remark in your head. 

Tingles of pleasure fill you from head to toe as warmth spreads in your veins. Peter doesn't seem to be reciprocating your attempts at making out like he normally does. Confused, you sit back and scoot a little away from him. 

"What's wrong?" You ask, keeping your voice tender. For a while, he's silent, and avoids your eyes. Worry pangs at your chest. The longer he takes to speak, the heavier your heart feels. "Peter, what's the matter?" 

"Why, um," he says, glancing up at you, "why did you have to tell Harry about our sex life?" 

You frown. "That's what you're mad about?" 

"It's an intimate thing. Between us." Peter crosses his arms, and you can almost feel his defensive barrier shoot up. 

You try to keep yourself from putting up your own walls, but it's a bit of an internal struggle. "It was just conversation! It's a normal part of being in a relationship." 

"But it's supposed to be between us!" 

You mimic his stance, crossing your own arms and furrowing your brows. "I'm sorry Peter! I don't know what else to tell you. I can't take it back! And I don't want to." 

"Really?"

You shake your head. "What's wrong with me wanting our friends to know how much I love you? Emotionally and physically?" 

Peter huffs and stands up, heading for the door. "You don't get it." 

You bolt after him, slamming the door shut as he turns the knob. "Explain it to me, Pete! I want us to move past this. I wanna fight this out!" 

"I don't." 

Tears sting your eyes, and you struggle to keep your voice down. "I apologized! What more do you want? I can't understand what you're so angry about if you don't explain it to me!" 

Peter's voice stays level and calm, which only infuriates you more. "Sometimes it doesn't seem like you care about my feelings. You never think before you do or say something." 

The latter which is true, but that's not what bothers you. Your irrational anger takes over your mind. "You don't think I CARE? What the HELL Peter! After everything we've been through you don't think I care about you? What's gotten into you?" 

"Nothing's gotten into me!"

"Oh _clearly_!" Your words are filled with more bite than you mean. "You've just been sitting on all this since we started dating?" 

"No, of course not," Peter retorts, his voice wavering. A poisonous victory flows through you and you take a terrible moment to revel in the fact that you've broken down his obnoxious calmness. He starts to say something else, but then stops himself. You glare at him. Somewhere deep inside there's a part of you screaming to get a grip on yourself, but you haven't been this mad in a long time and you're not sure you can control it. 

"What, Pete?" Your voice is so flat and unfamiliar that you scare yourself. "Say it."

"We need a break. For a little bit." 

You throw your arms up in disbelief. "All because I let our friends know we have sex! Fine, Peter. Maybe that's exactly what we need." 

Peter's face falls for a second, but he resumes his calm expression so fast you almost miss the hurt in his eyes. "Fine." 

And then he leaves the apartment, gently closing the door behind him. Once he's gone, you throw all the couch pillows at the door one by one, anything within your reach to expel the rage burning inside you. By the time you run out of things to throw, your anger has dissipated, leaving you feeling empty save for a deep, bitter sorrow. You burst into tears and sink to your knees. 

For what seems like hours, you sit there, sobbing, ignoring the incoming messages from the rest of your group asking where you and Peter are. A whistle from behind you, pulls you from your crying. 

"Wow. That was _very_ dramatic. Perhaps more enjoyable with popcorn." 

You dry your eyes on your sleeve and turn to find Kalia lounging on the couch. You draw your knees up to your chest. "What do you want?" 

"To comfort you." 

"Well you're not very good at it," you snap. "I just had a big fight with Peter. I don't need you rubbing salt in the wound." 

Kalia hops up from the couch and takes a seat next to you. "I don't believe it's his fault. You know him well. That' is unlike him. He is a sensitive kid, but not that much so." 

"What happened, happened. Sometimes you don't know people as well as you think you do." 

Kalia snorts. "You think that of the man you love most, and yet you do not apply that to Harry. " 

You sniffle. "Can't you just leave that alone?" 

"No." 

"Fine, then can you leave me alone? I need to lay in bed, numb, for the next few hours. Or years." 

"You've already had enough dramatics for one day," Kalia says. "You and Peter will get through this, because you are strong even as sinister forces try to pull you apart." 

She puts a hand on your shoulder, and you feel a jolt of warmth and tranquility before she disappears. For a while, you mull over her words. Something is trying to push you and Peter apart? What the hell is going on? 


	14. Fed Up With Your Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your friends set a trap for you because they're tired of the drama

Winter breaks is approaching, though much  _much_ slower than usual. Every day you wake up feeling like you're in a vat of molasses, and then proceed to traverse through the day as if the air is quicksand. You and Peter haven't so much as looked in each other's direction in two weeks. It's put strain on your friendships, always having to hang out separately. Not to mention the strain on your own mind. Just losing Peter like that, without knowing why, with absolutely no closure, left you feeling so empty. You're angry all the time, filled with an unfamiliar bitterness. You hate it. You hate that you can't fully enjoy the time you spend with Michelle. You hate that you spend most of your waking moments wondering why. 

It doesn't help that Michelle and Harry started going out. You know that you suggested it, and you want to be happy for them, more than anything because you know how great that feeling is. But your festering anger overrules anything other feeling that tries to claw its way into your mind. 

School doesn't matter anymore. You want it to. But you can't focus on it. You can hardly focus on anything. You're spiraling. You've done it before, when your dad died. But never like this. You've called Tony several times, desperate for some father-like advice, but he has yet to answer. You hope he's okay. You haven't heard anything from him in months. 

The bell rings for lunch and you can't hop out of your seat faster. Stomach grumbling, you make your way to the cafeteria. On the way, your phone buzzes. You sigh and pull it out. It's a text from Michelle. 

_yo 911 i seriously need your help get your ass to the empty practice room_

You frown and tuck your phone back into your pocket. Knowing Michelle, she probably has an alternate agenda with this, but in case she's really in trouble, you turn on your heel and head for the music area. In the very back hallway is one practice room no one ever uses because of the dim, flickering lighting the school has never bothered to fix. 

Michelle is sitting in front of the door to the practice room, hunched over, her body shaking with sobs. Your heart drops. You've never seen her cry, at least not like this. It's one of the worst feelings. For the first time in a while, that constant burning anger flowing through your veins ceases. All you know is Michelle is hurting and you need to help her. 

You put a gentle hand on her shoulder once you reach her. "Hey, got your text. What's up?" 

Head still tucked in her arms, Michelle murmurs, "Let's talk about it in the room." 

You raise an eyebrow. "Er, okay. You'll have to move away from the door." 

Slowly, Michelle gets to her feet, still avoiding eye contact. She grabs your wrist and turns the handle to the room. That's when you notice she's not crying at all. No tear stains, no puffy red eyes. Just a mischievous glint in her eyes. So it was a ploy. But for what? 

Michelle throws the door open and shoves you inside, where Peter is sitting in the corner, elbow resting on his knee, an annoyed expression plastered across his face. Far too late, everything clicks together. Immediately, you turn around and try to open the door, but find it locked. You pound on the glass, trying to ignore Peter's presence. Michelle dangles a key in front of the glass, taunting you. 

"MJ! Let me out!" You shout. "And where the hell did you get a master key?" 

"Not important," she replies. "And no. We're all fed up with your shit. You guys had a fight. Fine, everyone fights. But you two are meant to be together so both of you being stubborn and dramatic about whatever went on between the two of you is driving us up the wall. You're not coming out until you guys kiss and make up." 

You scoff, throwing your backpack to the ground. "You can't make us get back together!" 

Michelle shrugs. "We'll see." 

"Doesn't this constitute as, like, kidnapping?" You yell at her, as she saunters away. Michelle doesn't respond, and disappears around the corner. 

You bang your head on the door for a few seconds, trying to pass through the maelstrom of feelings flooding your mind. Embarrassment, anger, annoyance, misery, and a twinge of joy to see Peter again. After you've calmed a bit, you work up the nerve to turn around and face Peter. For a while, you just stare at each other. Tension builds in the air and you try the handle one more time, desperate to escape. Accepting the fact that you're trapped, you take a seat on the ground, the corner opposite to Peter.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Peter finally speaks. "So everyone is mad at us." 

"Ya think?" You snap. You want to work this out, but you can't help being short with him. He did initiate the break up after all.

He sighs, staring at the ceiling. Peter seems so tired. You can see it in his eyes, even if he isn't looking at you. Your anger fizzles a bit. Progress. "I'm sorry, Y/N." 

"Oh you're _sorry_ are you?" Scratch that progress bit. "Sorry wasn't good enough coming from me. What makes you think it will be for you?" 

"Because I'm genuine about it." He inhales sharply right after he finishes that sentence, like he hadn't been able to stop the thought from passing his lips. 

You want to tear your hair out. "And I wasn't? Is that what you're trying to say?" 

"No! No, of course not. I don't know why I said that." He turns to meet your gaze. "You're one of the most genuine people I know. It's one of the reasons I love you most."

"So you still love me then?" Your angry tone fizzles, replaced by a gentler one against your will. 

"I never stopped. How could I?" 

You tear your eyes away from his and stare at the ground. "I never stopped either. Peter, you're my best friend." 

Peter replies, "I love you so much that the feeling transcends the word." 

You glance back up at him. "So why, then, did you break up with me? Why the hell did you yell at me like that? It was one fight, Pete! Not the end of our relationship!" 

He scrunches his eyebrows. "I- I really don't know. I don't have a valid excuse for it. It was like something came over me, rooted in my mind. All I could think about was being so mad at you for that comment. Which I wasn't, not really. Just slightly embarrassed." Peter looks back up at you, his luminous eyes muddled with confusion. "And there was this constant ringing in my head until a while after we fought. I know this sounds like a wild excuse, but I- I'm telling the truth." 

A beat of silence.

You nod. "I believe you." 

Peter's eyes widen, clearly shocked. "But, it's insane."

You chuckle softly. It's not quite a laugh, but you've barely done anything of the like in the last few weeks. It sends a surge of euphoria through your veins. "Yeah it is. But I believe you."

You take the initiative to move closer to him. Not quite close enough to touch. You'll let him do that. 

"But, it's insane!" 

You shake your head, trying to suppress a smile. "Peter do you not want me to believe you?" 

"No, no that's not it. I'm just, it's crazy." 

"Like you being Spider-man?" You tease. 

This time, Peter laughs. "Right. I guess that's crazy too." 

You sigh. "I hate this. These last few weeks have been the worst of my life. I miss you." 

"I miss you too." Peter moves his hand closer to you, your fingertips just barely brushing. Butterflies flutter in your stomach and warmth pulsates in beat with your heart. It's like when you just started going out with him. "Your smile, your laugh, the way you stick your tongue between your teeth when you're concentrating really hard on something. I miss your friendship. Everything. I'm really sorry. You don't deserve the hurt I caused you." 

Tears sting your eyes. Blinking them away, you link your fingers with Peter's. You whisper, "We have a lot to talk about. The ringing, something I've been experiencing. A lot to talk about. But I need you. I-" 

You let the rest of your sentence die on your lips and just stare into his gentle eyes. God, you've missed his comforting presence. More than anything in the world. You let that anger that had filled you before morph into the fires of passion and you grab Peter's collar with your free hand and kiss him deeply. He leans into the kiss, running his hands through your hair. 

The door opens to reveal Michelle, interrupting the mood. "Good, you made up. Told ya it would work." 

Ned shrugs, but he's clearly delighted. 

You and Peter help each other to your feet. You clear your throat. "We want to apologize. For being such shitty friends during our fight." 

Michelle waves a hand. "Accepted. You're both drama queens. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Glad it's done with and will happen again never, got it?" 

You exchange a glance with Peter and then you both nod. 

"Good. Let's go eat." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! The fight has been resolved. Now we get into more shit in the next chapter. It's gonna be fun y'all. Also sorry this took so long to be written. I just finished my first semester at college so finals got in the way a bit. Anyways, I hope you're enjoying the story!


	15. A New Adversary!! Something Peter Says is NOT an Exciting Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new villain makes their presence known!

Things are back to normal, for the most part. You and Peter eased right back into your old affections as if nothing had happened. If anything, there's a stronger bond between the two of you. Partly because you think none of what Peter said when he broke up with you were his true feelings. Kalia had said something was trying to keep you apart, so you're going to make sure you stay together. Plus, you had a conversation about the ringing, and Peter tried not to get angry with you for keeping that from him. You're both trying not to get angry anymore. At least not irrationally.

But now there's a lot of questions. Neither of you know where that ringing comes from, or what the implications of it are, but with your luck it can't be anything good. So far, you can't find any hint as to what it means, and you've given up for the moment. Both of you are going to try to let it go until the ringing happens again. Though you hope it doesn't. 

Today is the last day of school before winter break, at least. Everyone is full of energy all day, eager for classes to end. You yourself are feeling the excitement, a pleasant distraction. Tony is supposedly going to be home for Christmas which only adds to your happiness. You hadn't realized how much you missed him. 

When the last bell finally rings, you leap out of your seat and race towards the commons where you meet up with your friends. You interlock your fingers with Peter's and stroll out of the front doors. You and the rest of your gang hop on the subway and head for your favorite coffee-shop downtown. It's a nice local place, with fun creations like the S'mores mocha where they actually balance a roasted marshmallow over the giant porcelain cup. 

All of you settle in to a booth sipping from your mugs, smiles on your faces. Sweet flavors coat your tongue and you sigh in joy. Right now, everything is perfect. Minus the fact that Harry had to leave early to visit family in Argentina. You wish he was here. Michelle certainly does. 

"So," you say, slurping up half of your drink, "what do y'all wanna do for the holidays? I'm gonna enlist Tony's credit card to throw a bangin' party. And get you guys awesome gifts." 

Peter shakes his head. "You dont have to get me anything." 

"Yeah me neither," Ned agrees. "Spending time with you guys is enough." 

"I expect the most extravagant thing you can find," Michelle says, her face completely serious but her dark eyes twinkling.

You chuckle. "See, MJ gets the true spirit of Christmas." 

"Damn straight." 

"Seriously though, I am going to get you guys something. And you're going to let me." Unintentionally, your voice thickens, and immediately your friends nod, a chorus of "yeah sure" echoing around you. 

"Hey!" Peter exclaims when he shakes free of your enchantment. "You can't use that on us."

You shrug. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

Before anyone gets a chance to respond, a series of shouts outside of the coffee shop captures everyone's attention. Instinctively, you slide your hand into Peter's, and interlock your fingers with his. Curious, you all turn out the window. Everything  _seems_ normal. At least, for a moment it does. You crane your neck to look upwards through the grimy glass and catch a glimpse of something green flying through the air. 

You exchange glances with your friends, all of their expressions akin to  _what the hell._ Downing the rest of your drink, you drag Peter and the rest of your gang outside to see what's happening. You stare up at the blue sky, shielding your eyes from the cold winter sun. There it is again: the streak of green. Once more, it loops around the buildings above you before landing hard on the bank a few buildings down and across the street. 

It's a person dressed completely in green and purple, with strange green pointed ears and haunting yellow eyes. They're standing on top of a peculiar flat glider, the ends pointed, as if they were bat wings. You assume that's what they're using to fly around, and find yourself a bit jealous. What you wouldn't give to be able to soar through the sky on a flying skateboard. Maybe that's what you'll beg Tony to make you next time you see him. 

A crowd gathers in the streets. Whispers of wonder hum through the crowd, causing a buzz of panic. You're not going to panic, not yet. You're just going to wait and see what happens, see if your growing excitement is worth it. 

The murmur of the people around you hushes as the figure begins to speak. His voice is raspy and sends shudders down your spine. "Someone bring me the Spider-man!" 

Your grip tightens on Peter's hand. Excited energy grows from your core. You whisper to him, practically bouncing on your heels, "Peter! You have a villain! This is so cool." 

"Er, not really. This should not excite you, Y/N," Peter replies, his tone both serious and playful. 

You turn around to face him. "I could help this time! I could get, a, a suit and I could come up with a cool name-" 

"Like The Temptress," Michelle input, sipping her coffee and staring up at the new adversary. 

"Yes! Thank you, Michelle!" You exclaim. "We could be, like, partners! It would be fun!" 

Peter shakes his head. "Yeah, absolutely not." 

"Oh, c'mon!" 

The figure on the roof of the bank hurls something from his satchel. The orb hits the balcony of the building right next door to where you're standing. It erupts and shards of stone hurtle through the air and fire lights among the rubble. 

"Where is the Spider-man? Does he wish to see the citizens of Queens suffer?" The man hurls another orb that explodes in the middle of the street. People dive out of the way as asphalt sprays everywhere. Screams echo through the air as everyone begins to race for safety. "I am the Green Goblin and I will NOT be ignored!" 

Michelle snorts and downs the rest of her drink. "What a dumb-ass name." 

"You might need my help fighting this guy!" You say to Peter, almost completely unfazed by the dangerous bombs. 

"NO!" Peter shouts, as he starts racing for an alley. "We'll talk about this later, alright? All of you, get to cover!"

You resist the urge to pull your hair out and push back the impulse to hop into the fight anyway. You don't need another fight with Peter, not so soon. For now, it's better to just stay alive and out of trouble. Wildly, you look around for a good place to find shelter. The coffee shop is the clearest option, but it's already crowded from other people rushing to safety. Across the street, you catch a glimpse of the underground entrance. Getting under the streets is probably the safest place to be at the moment. 

You grab both Ned and Michelle and race towards the stairwell. Halfway through the thinning, panicked crowd, another orb explodes on the ground beside you, throwing you off your feet. Ned falls next to you but Michelle slams to the ground much closer to the stairwell. Through the pounding in your head, you scream at her to run for the underground. She follows your orders and disappears down the stairs. 

You struggle to get to your feet, your skin stinging from a series of minor cuts, and your head clouded. Once steady, you help Ned to his feet. You barely take another step when an orb falls at your feet and thick, black smoke emits from it, surrounding you and your friend. Eyes watering, lungs burning, you stumble out of the cloud, coughing violently. You fall to your knees as you inhale fresher air. 

Recovered, you look around to make sure Ned is okay. In the dissipating smoke, you can't find any sign of him. 

"NED!" You call out, frantically scanning the area for your friend. Your throat is still raspy from the smoke attack, and you cough again. "NED!" 

A scream from down the street catches your attention. You catch a glimpse through the smoke of the Green Goblin hovering a few feet above the air with Ned in his clutches. Panic explodes in your chest and you completely forget about getting yourself to safety. If Peter is taking his sweet time putting on his other persona, then it's up to you to save your friend. 

Adrenaline pounding through your veins propels you forward fast enough to catch up to the Green Goblin. You reach him at the same time that Peter does, who takes the time to shoot you a glare. You smile sheepishly and duck behind a lamppost. No need to get yourself involved if Peter has the hang of it. But you're not going to abandon him. You'll be there as backup. Just in case. 

"Hey, Mr. Goblin sir!" Peter greets him, sticking out his hand. "I am Spider-man! I hear you've been looking for me?"

You peek around the post in time to see the Green Goblin's strange eyes light with a greedy fury that makes your stomach churn. 

"Oh, indeed I have!" He replied. Good lord his voice is like grating metal. You grimace. 

Peter spreads his arms. "Well, here I am! So, if you please, let's talk this out nicely, and let the nice man go." 

Ned has remained surprisingly calm. You have to admit, you're surprised, but rather proud. The best thing to be in a situation like this is calm and calculating. Or batshit crazy. Nothing in between though. 

The Green Goblin seems to consider it for a moment. But then he shakes his head. "If I let him go, what will ensure you come with me?" 

Peter shrugs. "Good point! But I don't think I'd go anywhere with you, honestly." 

He shoots a web at Ned and yanks him out of the Green Goblin's grip, sending him flying up into the air. Ned screams as he begins plummeting back towards the earth, but Peter manages to web him up and gently set him down on the ground before returning back to the standoff with the Goblin.

Instantly, you run to Ned's side and cut away the webs around him. "Hey, you okay?" 

Ned nods. "Yeah, yeah. My heart might explode it's beating so fast but I think I'm okay." 

You smile and laugh. "Good on ya, Ned. C'mon, let's get you out of here." 

Pushing Ned in front of you, you make sure to watch his back as you race towards the stairwell to the underground. At the bottom, you see Michelle nervously pacing back and forth. Her face brightens when she sees you and Ned taking the steps two at a time. 

Halfway down the stairwell, you stop at the sound of something hitting the stone wall of the underground entrance. You stare at your friends ushering you to the bottom, grip tight to the railing, groan, and turn back up the stairs, already scorning yourself for the decision. 

At the top of the stairs, you drop to all fours and peek around the wall. Peter's lying on the ground, groaning, but on his way back up. He always gets back up. A wave of worry and relief wash over you, and you hope that this new adversary isn't too much for Peter. 

"He'll be fine," you try to convince yourself. That feeble attempt at reassurance diminishes when the Green Goblin lands next to Peter and yanks him upwards. Electricity courses from his gloves through Peter and he cries out in pain before going limp. 

"Not so super now!" The Goblin snarls. 

You curse under your breath. "Electricity gloves? Really?" 

The Green Goblin wraps his hand around Peter's throat and another pang of worry strikes your heart. 

"Oh fuck. Goddamnit, Y/N. Don't do it. Peter will kill you. Do not do it," you whisper. Unsurprisingly, you do not take your own advice. 

Driven by fear and adrenaline, you leap to your feet and rush to Peter's aid. You stand as tall as you can and try to make yourself look as imposing as possible. The Green Goblin doesn't seem to notice you at first. 

"HEY!" You yell, putting authority into your words and willing your voice to thicken, "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" 

The Green Goblin drops Peter to the ground, who lies there motionless. He tilts his head, as if unsure why he'd done that. Of course, you know it's from your charm-speak. 

You're not quite sure what to do now, except stall until Peter wakes up. "And- and, uh, now, LEAVE!" 

Unfortunately, your voice has fallen flat, the power drained from your words. 

"Who are you to command me?" The Green Goblin turns to you, which is terrifying, but at the very least Peter seems to be out of his mind. 

"Just a concerned citizen!" You reply. "Who loves-" 

You stop yourself. Maybe not best to profess your love for the city's superhero. You might be impulsive, but you're not dumb. 

"Who, uh, loves coffee." 

The Green Goblin laughs. "You have no power over me. Leave this alone. I only want the Spider." 

Your anger swells, morphing into faux confidence. You hope it reignites the power to your words. "You will NOT harm him." 

Familiar honeyed thickness lines your words and you smile. It will not last forever, but it will last long enough for Peter to recover. The Goblin picks up on this rather fast, as he realizes he can't go near Peter with any of his weaponized orbs. Enraged, he turns to you. The wildness in his eyes sends another jolt of fear through your veins. You know you won't be able to entrance him anymore, not when you're so scared. So you go for the next best option: running. 

Unfortunately, that does not get you very far. The Green Goblin shoots forward on his glider and grabs your wrist. You thrash wildly in his grip, kicking, screaming. Anything to escape his hold on you, all to no avail. You glance over at Peter, whose chest is thankfully still moving, and beginning to stir. Spider-man gets back up. He always gets back up. But this time, he might not get up fast enough. 

The Green Goblin locks both of your wrists in his hands with an iron grip. Thinking of nothing else to do, you spit in his face. Or mask, technically. Either way, the statement stands. 

"Feisty, aren't you?" 

"Oh you have no idea," You reply, trying desperately to gather more courage to talk your way out of this situation. But your desperation is exactly the problem, cancelling out any sense of bravery you feel. You open and close your mouth a couple more times, hoping that your power will come to your aid. 

"What's the matter?" The Goblin rasps in your ear. "Voice not working?" 

You glare. Maybe if he just keeps talking he'll piss you off enough to give you that boost of confidence you need to force him to let you go. 

You risk another glance over the Goblin's shoulder towards Peter. He's awake now. And he's staggering to his feet. You don't let your gaze linger any longer for fear of giving away Spider-man's recovery to the Green Goblin. 

"Not so talkative now, huh?" 

"Eat shit!" You spit, attempting to kick him again.

The Green Goblin tightens his grip around your wrists and you wince in pain. "We'll see how that fire fares when subdued by the earth." 

"What?" Damn, if that wasn't poetic, but you sure as hell don't get it. 

The Goblin grabs your chin and holds your head in place as the yellow of his eyes fade away. You immediately are caught up in the allure of the brown eyes beneath, unable to tear your eyes away, even as painful ringing fills your mind. You want to scream, but it feels like dirt has filled your lungs. All you can focus on is the excruciating pain in your mind. This is so unlike the ringing you felt before. Completely familiar, and yet multiplied a thousand fold, as if the ringing is intent on making your brain explode. 

Warm, sticky liquid you know must be your blood drips from your nose and your ears. Slowly, the world begins to darken. You look over to Peter who is on his feet now. You can't see his face, but you can almost feel his panic. 

"Please stop," you manage to squeak between painful gasps of air. "Please..." 

And then you succumb to the ringing. Everything goes dark, but you can do nothing besides welcome the relief of unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Sorry this took so long to get out I went all the way down to Orlando to visit Universal Studios (totally geeked out in Harry Potter world) for the holidays which was fucking awesome, by the way. Now that I'm back to the freezing cold, these updates will hopefully be more prompt! I hope you're all enjoying the holidays, or the crisp air of December if you don't celebrate anything this season!


	16. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're trapped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take caution with this chapter if you are claustrophobic.

You awaken to darkness. You try to move your stiff arms, but find them locked in by wood. Panic immediately explodes in your chest. All around you, there's thick wood. Pounding on the top only showers you with dirt that slips through the cracks. You search your mind, trying to figure out what happened. The words of the Green Goblin surface, confirming your fears.

_We'll see how that fire fares when subdued by the earth._

Tears sting your eyes. You're trapped in a coffin, buried beneath the ground. You don't know how long you've been here or if anyone knows what happened or how much oxygen you have left. 

Throat hoarse, you try to scream, shout for help. Pushing on the top of the coffin does nothing. With some difficulty, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. It's seven thirty. Just a few hours after the attack. Your phone is almost dead, and you barely have one bar, but you have to try something. 

You call Peter, and for ages it's stuck on  _ringing_ before it finally goes through. Immediately, he picks up. 

"Y/N? Where are you? The Green Goblin just flew off with you after you passed out. I didn't get a chance to stop him. I-" 

"Peter," you croak, coughing away some dirt. "I'm going to die. If you can't find me, I'm going to die. He buried me, and I don't know how much longer I have to live." 

"Shit, stay on the line okay? If you stay I can track the signal and-" 

The line cuts out. You shakily say his name, but the call was dropped and you don't think you can make it again. All you can do is pound furiously on the top of the coffin and scream, cry. You know you're probably wasting too much oxygen but you can't help the fear. You could very well die here.

You allow yourself a few deep breaths to calm your mind. You have to conserve oxygen if you're going to bide your time until your rescue. You hate this. Just lying in a wooden box beneath the earth, relying on your boyfriend to find you. Completely helpless in the outcome of your own fate. 

It feels like a millennia before you finally hear something. Muffled, indistinguishable, but you can hear something other than your own heartbeat. Desperate for salvation, you scream for help. 

"I'm in here!" You scream, ignoring the pain of your raw throat. "Please, someone! Help me, I'm in here and I'm stuck!" 

The voices grow clearer and after an agonizing half hour, the top of the coffin is finally pried off. Moonlight beats down on you, brighter than it should be, but you welcome the intense glare. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you let loose a sob of relief. Someone reaches down to help pull you up. 

"Y/N?" Peter whispers into your ear, wiping some of the dirt from your face. "It's me, it's Peter. Ned and MJ are here too. Are you okay?" 

You bury your face into his shoulder and curl into his arms, overwhelmingly delighted to see him, to hug him, to breathe fresh air. Tears carve trails down your grimy face. "Peter I thought I was going to die. I- I really was about to die. I can't, I-" 

Emotion overwhelms you and your body shudders with cries of relief. Peter just holds you, strokes your hair, and hums softly. Ned and Michelle sit beside you and Peter quietly, and the presence of your friends is enough to calm you. 

"I want to go home," you whisper, your throat tight. "Please take me home." 

Peter wraps his arms around you and carries you all the way back to your apartment. 

* * *

Harry calls you the next morning when you wake up. Peter stayed the night with you and is still sound asleep on the couch, his hair a wild mess. The memories of the day before still flash behind your eyelids every time you close your eyes, but sleep put some distance between the events. You know it'll probably haunt you for a while, but with more time there's more distance and the ordeal will be nothing but a faint memory. You hope. 

"Hey Harry," you greet him when you finally pick up your phone. 

"Hey Y/N!" Relief exudes from his tone. "Michelle told me what happened. Thank god you're okay!" 

You exhale slowly and try to push the surge of panic from your mind. There's no dirt, no coffin, you're breathing fresh air. Everything's fine. "Yeah. It was terrifying. I'm just glad you're in another country so you're not in any danger." 

Harry chuckles. "I can't believe you're worrying about me after everything you've been through. You have such a good heart." 

"Uh, thanks. How's Argentina? I miss it there." 

"Great! I miss it a lot too, and my time is so short. My mom and I are already heading back to the states in a week." 

"Already?" You look over at Peter who's beginning to wake. "Wow. Well I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your time there, then. Thanks for calling Harry. It was nice. Ciao." 

"Ciao." 

You hang up and sit down on the couch beside Peter. "Morning sleepyhead." 

"Mornin' sunshine," he mumbles back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

"Ulch," you make a face. "Don't call me that." 

Peter smiles and sits up. "Sorry. Would you prefer bunny? Or perhaps sweetums." 

"Stop it." You lightly punch him, a smile growing on your face. "Those are all awful." 

Peter kisses you gently. "Well, whichever you prefer just know I love you." 

You press your forehead against his and your smile stretches wider. "I know. I love you too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was short, but the end was a little cute! Hopefully you're enjoying this story! Everything will start to come together soon. Not sure how close we are to the end, but there's certainly more to come! 


End file.
